Gemotions

The fluorescent lights of the office seemed to throb, a sickly pulse against her skin. Each blink felt like an eternity, the sterile white walls closing in. Her hands, clammy and trembling, fumbled with the stapler, the metal cold and unfamiliar. She cleared her throat, the sound a dry rasp in the sudden silence. “Okay, so you just… file these invoices alphabetically, by client name.” Her voice cracked, a tiny fissure in the carefully constructed facade of competence she’d been clinging to.

The new recruit, a young woman with bright, eager eyes, nodded, already reaching for the stack. A wave of nausea, acrid and unwelcome, churned in her stomach. She forced a smile, a grimace that felt stuck to her face. Everything felt wrong, the chair too hard, the air too thick, the future a vast and echoing void.

She wanted to run, to disappear into the labyrinthine corridors, to escape the impending doom of her own replacement. She busied herself with rearranging pens on her desk, the repetitive motion a desperate attempt to regain control.